My Roast of Justin Bieber

When Comedy Central asked me to do this roast, I was torn. On one hand, I love Bieber, and couldn’t fathom insulting him for cheap laughs. On the other hand, was a scribbled-down reminder for me to “PAY RENT.” So, yeah. I’m here. Write this down, kids—the loyalty of a true believer is earned, but the loyalty of a true Belieber can be bought for the price of a sub-level comedian.


I am a Belieber. My younger sisters are Beliebers. Anne Frank may have been a Belieber, but we’ll never know—you can’t just read a teenage girl’s diary. That’d be, like, so embarrassing for her. I can tell you who definitely wasn’t a Belieber—Etta James. In 2008, the legendary singer slammed Beyoncé for singing her hit “At Last” at President Obama’s Inauguration Ball. Clearly, Ms. James did not see your 2011 documentary Never Say Never, where that song is, no joke, the soundtrack to you flipping your pre-pubescently shiny hair in slow motion. Yes, that is a real scene in a real movie that stole 31 whole seconds away from my life. Well, more than 31 seconds—I’ve seen Never Say Never more or less seven times, so that times 31… carry the one… Damnit, Bieber, you’re distracting me. That face. God. My point is that Beyoncé is not the enemy here, Etta James. Beyoncé is never the enemy.

Seriously, Biebs, beeb, babe, I love you. And I don’t mean that in the petty blanket way fans say it—I mean our souls are compatible, Justin. And you can either deny it, or you can open up your heart and belieb—hey, over here. Why won’t you make eye contact with me? Make eye contact with me. Seriously, I’ve been a fan since childhood. Well, your childhood. I was in college when your song “Boyfriend” came out, and I honestly thought I’d still be in college when your real boyfriend came out—but we’re still waiting on that.

Justin, your story is so inspirational, and I secretly wish you could inspire us all as our President. Your reign would be long and fruitful. You could croon your State of the Unions, dance your way out of domestic disputes, and literally piss on unjust foreign deals. Your vice president could be renowned actor Liev Schreiber, just so we can yell “Bieber Schreiber 2016!” at your campaign rallies. God, Justin, are you even awake? Come on, I wrote that one just for you. Kids love rhyming jokes. Unfortunately, this urine-soaked presidential fantasy will never happen. For starters, you weren’t born an American citizen. But I know the real truth—it’s 2015, and we’re just now on our first black President. We are totally not ready for our first lesbian in office. Let alone one who’s in denial of what race he or she is. Sorry, Hillary.

Regardless, Justin, your talent is undeniable, and your drive is unparalleled. You truly are a classic illustration of the American dream—if you find what you’re good at, and work really hard at it, you too can get the hell out of Canada.